


Moment's Silence

by MissjuliaMiriam



Series: a cure i know that soothes the soul [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Blowjobs, Coda to other fic, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, PWP, Praise Kink, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 20:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam/pseuds/MissjuliaMiriam
Summary: After everything else, Juno and Peter come back together in the way they once did.Coda to Common Tongue, though can be read as standalone PWP.





	Moment's Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This was, for whatever reason, very difficult to write. Hopefully it's worth the effort! Enjoy!

After dinner, Juno and Peter sit across the table from one another and share the pint of ice cream, their spoons tapping together occasionally with a faint ringing of metal. Juno takes the last bite, aware of Peter's gaze on him as he licks the spoon, just a little self-conscious.

Once they've finished and left the spoons in the sink to wash in the morning, Peter steps close, wraps his arms around Juno again. It feels like a reunion every time they touch, even though it feels like they've done nothing but try to get closer again and again in the last few hours. Juno sighs and melts into Peter's arms, and bends his face up for a kiss, which Peter grants easily, happily.

Peter's mouth is cold and sweet from the ice cream, and it slowly warms to their shared breath. Juno presses up on his toes to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding next to Peter's, brushing against those sharp teeth; a jolt of arousal races down Juno's spine, which is almost a relief. This, at least, he knows. There's nothing fraught in the way they come together physically, and Juno's ready to have that again: something simple and straightforwardly _good_.

Peter’s breath, too, takes like sweetness, and Juno breathes him in, pressing closer unconsciously. When they part briefly to each gasp for air, Juno realizes that they’re touching now all down their bodies, pressed flush. Heat runs through him, and he lets his hands, which had come to rest on Peter’s shoulders, slide down to his waist and grip there. Then he lets go and steps back, taking Peter’s hand.

“Come on,” he says.

Peter smiles at him. “Where are we going, my dear?”

“Up to you,” Juno says, as he walks out of the kitchen, tugging Peter behind him. “I was thinking bedroom, but the couch works too.”

Peter making a soft considering noise, and then says, “I think I’ve spent enough time on your couch. Bed it is.”

“Sounds good.”

Even so, Juno can’t resist pausing in the living room to kiss Peter there, too. He wants to kiss Peter in every room of this apartment, up against every wall, perched on every piece of furniture. He wants to kiss Peter in other places, too: at the door, coming home or headed out; in his office, behind his closed door or out in the main room right in front of Rita; up on the roof, even, because he knows that in Peter’s arms he’d feel no fear. And right now, he wants to kiss every part of Peter’s body, put his mouth on all of him as if that’ll stake a claim, make some guarantee that Peter’s really his, really _with_ him now, and that when Peter leaves in a few days, he’ll come back.

He can’t think too hard about that right now, because if he does… well. Both of them have done enough crying today. Juno is significantly more interested in doing something else, so he finishes leading Peter to his bedroom. It’s a little tidier than when he’d last seen it, the laundry banished from the middle of the floor and sorted, the closet door closed. That’s fine; it makes it all the easier to turn and look up into Peter’s eyes as he walks backwards across the floor toward the bed. Peter kicks the door shut behind them, and then joins Juno at the side of the bed, wrapping his arms around him once more and bending to kiss him hard. Juno’s mouth already feels hot and swollen and he _loves_ it, wants more—wants to feel that everywhere.

But he had a plan, so he turns them a little and nudges Peter. Peter pulls away, and Juno says, “Take off your clothes. Please.”

Peter chuckles. “Only if you’ll do the same, dearest.”

The pet names are going to _kill_ him. That’s fine, because Peter’s removing his clothes, shirt then pants and underwear together, and Juno strips just as quickly, near-frantic to be naked with this man again. It takes far too long, Juno fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, but finally his skin is bare and so is Peter’s and he’s able to go to him and push him down to sit on the edge of the bed. He bends down to kiss Peter’s forehead and then each of his closed eyes and then his nose, soft as he can, and then Peter’s lips, barely a brush. Then he sinks to his knees between Peter’s spread thighs without hesitation.

Peter opens his eyes and looks down at Juno, reaches for him with both hands to cup his face. “Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice hoarse. He clears his throat, then says, “I want you to feel good too, Juno.”

“Oh, I will,” Juno says, promises, hot surety in his voice. He can’t wait another minute to be full of Peter in some way and this is the fastest; he wants to get fucked but he doesn’t think he has the patience. More than that, he wants Peter to feel every inch of the hunger that Juno has for him, and this is the easiest way to show him. So many words have passed between them in the last day, but there are no words for what Juno feels. Instead he leans forward and breathes over the head of Peter’s cock, then takes it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

Above him, Peter shudders, lets out a long sigh, and then wraps a hand around the back of Juno’s neck. Juno relaxes into it, hesitates for a moment between pressing back into the touch and sliding his mouth forward, and then Peter makes the decision for him and tightens his grip, urging him on. Juno sighs happily through his nose and does as he’s told, working the underside of Peter’s cock with his tongue as he dips his head down to take more into his mouth. He wraps one hand around the base for the moment, knowing he’s out of practice and will probably gag if he tries to take all of Peter’s cock. Instead he focuses on what he can do without struggle, sucking and tasting, feeling saliva build in his mouth. He’s going to look like a fucking mess after this, red swollen lips and drool on his face, and maybe Peter’s come too, and he can’t _wait_ . He wants to be marked by this man, debauched by him; he wants to be ruined for anyone else. He _has_ been ruined for anyone else.

Above him, Peter is moaning, and Juno looks up at him through his eyelashes to see him staring intently back, his gaze fixed on the place where Juno’s lips are wrapped around his cock. It’s searing, riveting, and Juno doesn’t look away as he finds a rhythm, working Peter into a frenzy. Eventually his eye drifts shut and he lets himself drift as well, sinking into the ache in his jaw and the softness of Peter’s skin on his tongue, the salty taste of him, the slick sounds of his own mouth. One of Peter’s hands is wrapped tightly into his hair, guiding him gently, and Juno’s already dreaming about some future date when Peter puts him down hard on his knees and fucks his throat. It’s not happening now, but it will.

“Juno,” Peter moans, after enough time has passed for Juno’s jaw to get sore. “I’m going to—if you don’t—”

Juno thinks about just continuing, but he’s not sure that’s what Peter wants, so he pulls off with a wet noise and wipes a hand across his mouth, looking up at Peter. “You can come in my mouth, if you want,” he offers. His voice is hoarse.

“How do you want to get off, darling?” Peter asks. His breathing is unsteady, but his hand is gentle on Juno’s cheek when he touches it. “I could fuck you, or you me.”

Juno shrugs. “I—I don’t know.” He can’t think. He wants Peter’s cock back in his mouth; he wants Peter _in_ him, closer, always closer. Everything feels muddled except that one overpowering want. Would Peter fuck him without prep? Not dry, he’s not a moron, but—god, he wants it, wants to be _filled_. “I want…” He can’t even articulate it, he wants so much. He’s so hungry, starving, after so many days of Peter close and yet so far away. He’s gluttonous and greedy for him now, and that’s all that’s left in Juno’s head, everything else erased by the weight of Peter on his tongue and how much that isn’t _enough_.

“Oh, my dear,” Peter says, so tender. He traces Juno’s cheek, his jaw, trails fingers down his throat. “I see. It’s okay. Come here, finish me off, and then I’ll take good care of you.”

Juno nods agreeably and lets Peter guide him forward again. He moans when Peter’s cock sinks back into his mouth, Peter guiding his head forward until Juno nearly chokes. He feels full and overwhelmed and _satisfied_ , and Peter lets him take his fill, that steady hand on him as he finds his rhythm again. Peter is everywhere, surrounding him, filling him up and making him warm. He can’t even concentrate to touch himself, though his own cock is achingly hard between his legs. Instead his attention narrows down until it feels like he’s entirely made up of the softness of Peter’s skin against his tongue and the taste of precome in his throat and Peter’s slender fingers pressed against the back of his neck and the sound of Peter’s voice, moaning and murmuring his name and praising him; he closes his eye and lets his senses turn to taste and touch and hearing. It’s so fucking _good_.

It’s almost a shock when Peter’s hand suddenly goes tight around the back of his neck, his voice choking off into a cry. Juno blinks his eye open and looks up, watches ecstasy wash over Peter’s face before he throws his head back and comes, thrusting up into Juno’s mouth. Peter’s come floods over his tongue and he swallows, feeling parched for him, and presses with his tongue to drag out Peter’s orgasm, coaxing out every lingering drop of pleasure until Peter bends forward, wrung out and panting. Juno lets his mouth lie slack around Peter’s cock, not willing to pull back on his own but not wanting to overstimulate his lover; after a minute, Peter tugs on Juno’s hair to pull him back and up and Juno goes easily, letting Peter draw him up off his aching knees and onto the bed. Peter shuffles backward, his limbs loose and as close to uncoordinated as Juno has ever seen him, and he pulls Juno along until they’re both lying on the bed side-by-side. Peter leans in and kisses Juno, surely tasting himself in Juno’s mouth, and one of his hands traces down Juno’s side, lingering to trace his ribs beneath his skin, to caress his hip, to trail his fingers along the scars and stretch marks on Juno’s thigh. Juno sighs and arches into the touch, pressing for more closeness, more contact, and Peter grants it, laying his whole hand down, an anchor point.

“Do you want my hands, dearest?” Peter asks, his voice only a breath of air in the space between them.

Juno nods. “Yes, please. Please touch me.”

Peter smiles, and then that hand on Juno’s thigh slides up and wraps around his cock, stroking him slowly, and then faster when he finds Juno already slick with precome. It doesn’t take much for Peter to have Juno panting, pressing into him; with the hand not on Juno’s cock, Peter takes one of Juno’s hands, twining their fingers together in the sheets between their bodies, curved together like parentheses. And then he begins to talk. “You’re so lovely, Juno. So beautiful, so good for me. I can hardly believe that you’re here, that you want me. I’m happy—you make me happy, I hope you know how very happy you make me. It fills me up with joy just to look at you, my love, my stunning lady.”

He continues on like that until Juno is keening and arching into his hands. Juno’s fingers clench around Peter, and he chokes out his name, all his other words long gone, and then he comes. It feels like a flare of fire, burning through him, every part of his body going hot and tight—and then it’s over, and he relaxes, every inch of him scorched and exhausted. He opens his eye, not even remembering having closed it, and sees Peter smiling at him. It’s all he can do to smile back.

“Hey,” he says, dumbly.

“Hello,” says Peter. “Would you grab me a tissue, Juno?”

“Mm,” Juno says, and reaches awkwardly behind himself for the box that’s sitting on the floor in front of his bedside table. He retrieves a tissue after a bit of struggle, unwilling to roll over and look away from Peter to get an easier grasp, and then hands it over. Peter wipes his hand, tosses the tissue off the side of the bed, and then grasps Juno’s face to draw him into a kiss.

When their lips part with a soft, wet sound, Juno says, “Can we…”

Peter makes a questioning noise, and then, when it’s clear that Juno can’t quite ask for what he wants, he laughs softly. “I suppose we have done quite enough talking for one day, haven’t we?”

Juno smiles and nods gratefully. “I know there’s… more to say. A lot more.” It’s early, but… “But I’m tired.”

“Me too, my dear.” Peter kisses Juno’s face again, then reaches for the rumpled sheets and flings them over them both. “Sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Juno says, meets Peter’s eyes and hopes he sees the promise there. “In the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome as always. Find me @motherfuckingnazgul on Tumblr and @flippinnazguls on Twitter.


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